


Wank - Excerpt from Proxy

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Masturbation, The Quidditch Pitch: Self Pleasure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-05
Updated: 2006-06-05
Packaged: 2018-10-27 14:59:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10811328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: An excerpt from Proxy.  For the "I touch myself" Monthly Challenge.





	Wank - Excerpt from Proxy

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Well, if you haven’t read Proxy, you’re coming in on the middle of the story and it’s a bit complicated so I won’t try to explain.  But here’s Harry with his hand down his pants just when an I Touch Myself challenge goes up at The Quidditch Pitch.  What’s a girl to do?  (I do feel weird letting it go without having passed it by brumuex77, like a bad kid sneaking out of the house)  


* * *

Harry was startled awake.  _Am I daft,_ he wondered, _or did my nipples just wake me?  They’re…what?  Itching? Throbbing?_ He squirmed, letting them slide against a hot, slick surface.  

 

“Actually, Plato thought children should be taken from their parents and raised by the community as a whole…one of those for-the-greater-good thingies.   If no one knows which kid is theirs, every kid is treated equally.”

 

“Well, that’s dodgy, isn’t it?  First of all, people would find other ways of discriminating…attractive kids would get more attention…smarter kids, charismatic kids…people will always find ways to exclude others.  Besides, tell me people won’t recognize their own.   Mum would have immediately known her children—”

 

“Oh, come on, Bill…it doesn’t take a genius to pick out the Weasleys!”

 

“My point exactly.  People would recognize their kids.  How many times have I heard that Harry looks just like James—”

 

“ _Some_ people would recognize their kids.  I look nothing like my parents.  Besides, I’m not advocating the idea…I just think it raises interesting questions.  What if no one knew if you were Pureblood or Half-blood or Muggle-born?”

 

A laugh.  “Are you really going to restructure our whole social system, Hermione?”

 

“Dead right, I am.  Wanna buy a S.P.E.W. button?”

 

Harry stifled a groan.  It would be really nice if Bill and Hermione left now; he wanted to be alone with his nipples.  Never in his life had they ever been so hot, elongated, prickly and in need of attention.  Then, after he took care of his nipples, there was an impressive swelling between his legs to see to.  He shifted uncomfortably, biting back another groan.  _This is what I get,_ he thought, _for sleeping half-naked on top of my half-naked mate._

 

Harry lifted his head to look at Ron who was sprawled beneath him—sprawled, that is, as much as he could be in a single bed that held two six-foot-something Weasleys and one five-ten-something Potter.  _Why am **I** sleeping on top of **him**?_ wondered Harry.  **_He’s_** _the one who sleeps on **me** … **he** chases **me** around the bed all night_.  It took a moment for him to remember flopping on Ron’s chest and falling into a deep hole of sleep.  

 

“All right, Harry?”

 

“Erm…” Harry said.  Really, he needed a moment to collect himself…to get himself under control.  Thing was, that wasn’t going to happened.  Not when he had his bare chest glued damply to Ron’s bare chest and an erection the size of the Hindenburg finally making good use of the extra room in Dudley’s old jeans. Harry took a deep breath, fighting the urge to squirm.  

 

Beneath him, Ron slept on.  His face was turned to the side and he looked blessedly peaceful.  He’d wrapped one arm around Harry—Harry could feel the large hand splayed on his lower back—and crooked the other arm above his head.  _Just look at him,_ thought Harry, feeling his heart pull like warm taffy.  _Has he changed?  Have I been blind all these years?  Or just stupid?  How could I have ever looked at Cho?  Look at that bright hair…those freckles that make him look like a kid.  Look at those curving lips, that sleep-puffed mouth._   

 

Ron sighed deeply.  His chest rose, moving against Harry’s and Harry felt his heart and his cock simultaneously throb.  He didn’t know whether to trace Ron’s lips with his finger and sing love songs or shove a nipple in his mouth and shout, _suck me, dammit!  Use some tongue!_

 

“Haaaaaaaaaarrry…are you awake?”

 

“Yeah,” Harry said—or tried to.  All that came out was a raspy croak.  He cleared his throat and tried again.  “’M’all right.”  He coughed.  His throat still twinged but the rest of him was all right.  “What time is it?  How long have I been asleep?”

 

“It’s just before daylight, Harry,” said Hermione.  She was sitting cross-legged on the cot just a few feet away.  “You’ve only slept two or so hours.  You really should go back to sleep.”

 

_Not bloody likely,_ thought Harry, inwardly sighing.  _Not in the state I’m in.  Whose brilliant idea was it to put me and Ron to bed without shirts anyway?  Bill at least should have known better.   I guess after all the panic over Sirens, seizures, choking fits and reappearing Dark Objects, no one could be fussed to offer us fresh shirts.  Still…_ Harry looked again at Ron and again his cock twitched.  His nipples stung like doxies were biting them, and was that a wet spot in his pants?  _Shit,_ Harry thought.  _Gotta go…gotta take care of this before there’s an accident._ “Getting up,” he croaked to Bill and Hermione. 

 

“Need help?” offered Bill.

 

_Sure,_ thought Harry, _wanna me help carry my colossal bits?_  “No, no,” he said aloud.  “Just going to the loo.”

 

Harry rolled off Ron, keeping his back to Hermione.  If anyone was going to see his hard-on—and he was sure they could see it in Brazil—he’d prefer it be Bill.  “Throw me a shirt, Hermione?” he asked, feeling his face heat.  A moment later, something whizzed through the air and flopped on his head.  

 

“Thanks.”  Harry pulled the shirt over his head; it was Ron’s shirts, no question.  Too big for Harry and there was that Cannons logo.  But more than that, the shirt smelled of Ron.  Harry closed his eyes, savoring the heady scent that had comforted him while he’d been too dizzy to know if Ron were dead or alive, and decided Ron was never getting his shirt back.  “I’ll be back, erm…soon,” he told the others, getting clumsily to his feet and grabbing his wand from the bedside table.  As he sidled out of the room, he heard a low rumble of laughter from Bill.

 

He closed Ron’s bedroom door behind him and hoped his clear _don’t-follow-me_ message would be understood.  Then he hurried to the bathroom and slammed the door, falling back against it.  _Oh fuck,_ he moaned, _I’m not going to make it._   He pointed his wand over his shoulder, quickly sealing the door.  At the same time, he pressed down on his cock, willing it to contain itself.  It was so engorged; it felt like it was undergoing a reverse Apparition.  Instead of the horrible inward compression, there was an intense outward expansion.  _Like when Aunt Marge blew up,_ Harry thought, biting his lip.  _Or when Dudley ate the Ton-Tongue Toffee._   He stumbled toward the toilet, giving it a stern look as he tugged at his zip.  “Not a word from you,” he said.   

 

“Not a word,” promised the toilet.  “My lips are sealed.”

 

“God,” said Harry, moaning as he opened his jeans.  He freed his cock, which was heavy, hot, acutely sensitive and, like his nipples, throbbing insistently.  He caught a fat dollop of pre-come and coated himself.  Then, putting his hand under the shirt that smelled of Ron, he pinched and pulled at one nipple.  Unable to stifle his groans, he quickly stuffed the shirt in his mouth.  His hand moved roughly on his cock, alternating hard squeezes with up and down strokes.  He wanted to last longer, but his body was already shaking, nipple pushing into the pinching fingers, and cock thrusting into the wet hand.  Biting down on the shirt, Harry bent his knees and shot.  A long white stream of ejaculate arched from his cock and spattered against the toilet bowl.  Harry stood on his toes as the orgasm seemed to go on endlessly.  Finally, it was over, the final shudders like the last sudden sparks after a firework display.

 

“Honestly,” said the toilet, “If I had hands, I’d applaud.  Really.  That was spectacular.”

 

“Oh shut up,” said Harry, panting.


End file.
